


Loving You Was My Greatest Masterpiece

by lemoncellbros



Series: The Witcher [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Love Confessions, M/M, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25480738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncellbros/pseuds/lemoncellbros
Summary: Geralt is captured by fairies in the midst of a contract and its up to Jaskier to come to his rescue. How will the Witcher react to his bard bartering his life?Does Jaskier truly value himself so little?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799803
Comments: 5
Kudos: 186





	Loving You Was My Greatest Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda trash pls forgive me...the beginning is a lil slow but it gets better (i think) :) i hope this is alright...pls be gentle
> 
> EDIT: i wrote this at 2am when i was having sad boi hours and i now realize it is terrible. please forgive me

Even as he was approaching the entrance to the cave, weaponless, Jaskier could admit that this was really quite a terrible idea. Geralt had been captured by fae in the midst of a contract and whisked away to yet another dark, scary cave where Jaskier was, of course, obligated to try and execute a daring rescue for his dumb, reckless witcher. Perhaps this mission might be a bit more doable had Jaskier just taken a moment to consider how exactly he planned on freeing Geralt from his mischievous captors, but, as was his prerogative, he ploughed full steam ahead into the dangerous depths of fairy azkaban with only his lute and the clothes on his back for protection.

Finding where Geralt was being held was not very difficult at all, Roach being tied up not fifteen feet from the entrance of a foreboding cave looking positively disgruntled. Jaskier took swift inventory of her to confirm her wellbeing, and, aside from her worried searching for her owner, she was perfectly fine. He offered a soothing hand to her, mumbling assurances of Geralt’s return, not noticing that he doesn’t mention himself as being with him.

Upon approaching said cave, Jaskier is a bit baffled to find nothing and no one between himself and a winding path that led into a deep darkness, which he progressed down hesitantly. It takes a few minutes, but he eventually hears faint voices bouncing off the stone walls around him, and it is then that he feels the first jab of fear of this venture. The soft voices amplified by his surroundings instilled a sense of foreboding in him, an uneasy feeling in his stomach that spread throughout his body and slowed his steps as he neared a cavern he was sure that Geralt was being held in. 

Jaskier offered himself no time to waver in his resolve, slapping a brave face on and a jaunty air to his already confident stride as he burst into the clearing,

“Good evening, friends! I seem to have lost my witcher, surely none of you would happen to know where I might find him?” 

As much as he is trembling, Jaskier’s voice maintains his normal arrogance and dramatics, but, more importantly, it is steady. The moment he speaks, five pairs of eyes turn to him, but it’s only the anguished yellow ones that he searches for. The rest are assorted fairies sat at the foot of a, frankly fabulous, throne, sitting atop of which is a dainty lady with peculiarly pointed ears and a sharp toothed smile. To her right, Geralt is sat in a carved and ornate lacquer-wood chair, struggling violently despite no visible restraints on him. Magic, stupendous.

Jaskier smiles tightly, bouncing over to Geralt, “Well, I see you’ve got him right here! How wonderful, now I’ll just take him off your hands and we’ll get on our way--”

A wall of air suddenly appears before him, knocking him clear off his feet and effectively blocking his path to Geralt, who gasped almost inaudibly at this.

A booming voice erupts from the throne, “Now, why would I do that? Actually, why should I do anything you say? I only see one of us on a throne,” Bitch. “What will you give me for him?”

As much as Jaskier is loath to admit it, panic begins to flood his veins and his thoughts start blurring together. What does he have to offer her? His lute? That’ll mean nothing to her. His… well, he really didn’t have anything else. Or, rather, one thing.

“Myself, my talent. I’m a very respected bard, if I do say so myself. I can offer much more entertainment than dear old Geralt can, he’s really quite boring in all actuality. Let him go and I’ll stay and dedicate my life and work to you. He’s worth nothing to you here,” Cold sweat was dripping down his neck and back and he was beginning to feel faint. God, he prayed she’d believe him.

Mischievous eyes squint at him as the fairy leans forward to examine him, “How peculiar, that a bard loves a witcher,” Jaskier doesn’t correct her. “Hmm. Okay, I’ll make a bargain with you, Bard. If you can convince me that the Butcher of Blaviken deserves to live, I will accept your terms and free him. If not, I will kill the both of you. Do you acquiesce?”

There was not a single doubt in Jaskier’s mind, even as he looked to Geralt, who was struggling and silently pleading that he decline. He knew that he should never make a deal with the fae, he wasn’t as much of a fool as everyone seemed to think, but he could not care one bit less about himself when Geralt was sitting helpless in front of him. He was the beacon of strength that never wavered, but he was falling apart right before Jaskier’s eyes, and he could not abide by that. Sadly, he turned to Geralt and mouthed: I’m sorry. 

Jaskier turned away from him before he could see the anguish fill Geralt’s expression, 

“Alrighty then, shall I just…” he trailed off, the lady fairy gesturing to the open floor in front of her, a sharp smile on her face. Ah, a stage, for his most important performance.

He shook his limbs out, pulling his last vestiges of confidence, of dramatics, from somewhere deep within himself. If he was going to do this, it would not be bullshitted, as most things Jaskier does are. For once, he would be giving a sincere, real and unembellished act. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, his entire being had shifted. He stepped into his imaginary spotlight, the showman unleashed.

“This wouldn’t be a fair shake if I didn’t acknowledge the facts… What is it you call him? The Butcher? Of Blaviken, White Orchard. A mutant, a monster, and a million other nouns and insults and you would be absolutely correct,” raised eyebrows all around.

“It would be remiss of me to act like Geralt isn’t an extremely flawed being. Actually, most of the time, he’s a right bastard. Selfish, harsh, and frankly cruel at times. He hurts the people around him and doesn’t regret it at all,” Jaskier can’t look at Geralt’s face, because he knows he has a look of acceptance, eyes downcast and lips thin.

“But,” Jaskier intones, “he has a good heart. Bad temper, sure, but a good heart. Heroes and villains, we’re all somewhere in between. He never lied though, about who he was. I mean, how can someone spend their whole lives killing monsters without ever becoming one?” Yellow eyes meet blue, but Jaskier turns back to the fairy, albeit reluctantly.

“Nevermind that, it doesn’t matter to you whether or not he’s as good of a man as I know he is. You don’t care that he is honest, and fair, and his whole life has been a sacrifice so that he can protect us ungrateful, hateful humans,” Jaskier closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

“All you care about is suffering. It’s an age old question; who would really suffer if we were less one witcher? Well, the mystery is no longer, because it would be me. It’s not the common man or the townsfolk or anyone else like that. It’s me.”

“Why?” He turns from the fairy, looking Geralt dead in the eye. “Because I love him. I’m a selfish, selfish bard and I love him and I want him. I love him more than music, because he is more beautiful and poetic than any song,” It’s anguish like he’s never felt before, and as hard as Jaskier wrenches his eyes shut, tears fall.

“Loving him is my magnum opus. My greatest masterpiece, falling horribly, and irrevocably in love with him, so much so that I am here to beg you to let him go because if he’s out there saving the world, he’s not here to watch this pathetic, useless bard need him so much.” Jaskier can’t look, but if he did, he’d see the absolute devotion radiating from Geralt.

“So let him go. Let him leave this place and I’ll stay here in misery, and you will have a victory over the both of us,” he ends in a pained whisper, “Please, let him go.”

The fairy looks oddly pleased, “Hmmm. No, I don’t think I will.”

Jaskier is horrified, “Please, you can have me for eternity--”

“You are both free to go,” she waves her hand at Geralt and he stands instantly, released from his invisible bonds. He rushes to Jaskier, grabbing him by the scruff.

“But, what--” 

“Be brave in love, bard. I think it will be rewarded,” and with that, she waves them away. Geralt whisks them away and out of the cave and probably a mile farther than that, barely taking time to loose Roach and mount himself and Jaskier. 

Finally, some time later, Geralt seems satisfied with their distance and helps them dismount. After tending to Roach in absolute silence, and finally allowing her to graze, he turns to Jaskier sitting on the ground. His expression is unreadable.

Heartbreakingly quiet, he asks, “Do you truly value your life so little?”

“Um, yeah,” Jaskier responds dumbly.

“Do you really love me? Is that the truth?”

Jaskier stands and slowly, ever so slowly, and reaches up to cup Geralt’s cheek. He leans into the small touch, eyes closed, and it's so tender. At this moment, it’s not the Butcher of Blaviken and some bard. It’s not predator and prey. It’s two men, in desperate, devoted, love. It’s Geralt and Jaskier.

Moving so that Geralt is aware and able to stop him whenever he pleases, Jaskier leans up and captures his lips in a soft kiss, running his fingers through long, white hair, a gentle gesture that melts the White Wolf. They part lips eventually, but Geralt leaves his hands on Jaskier’s waist, which they almost fit completely around. It ignites something protective in a very deep part of him. 

“Yes, Geralt, I really do love you. Explosively, and probably for the worst, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone before. I thought I’d be scared of this, of what I’d be willing to do for you, but then I was standing there, willing to give myself for you, and I’ve never felt better in my life.”

Geralt does the Concerned Eyebrows™, “You shouldn’t have done that, Jaskier. You could’ve died, and I couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

“But I didn’t. Here I am, alive and in love. Tell me, what will you do about it?”

There is a pause and, for that horrible moment, Jaskier thinks he’s going to be turned down and he’s sure he’ll die if that’s the case. Luckily, his funeral can be postponed as Geralt takes his face in hand, tips it to the side, and engages him in a fantastically passionate kiss. He barely runs his tongue along the witcher’s bottom lip before he is offered enthusiastic entry, and it was the most intoxicating, dizzying thing either man had ever felt.

Somehow, Jaskier found himself hefted against a tree, pressed chest-to-chest and with legs wrapped around Geralt’s waist. His head is thrown back in a show of wanton desire, which is rewarded with open-mouthed kisses and the razor edge of his witcher’s teeth against his neck. The two fall into a messy embrace that has them keening, seeing stars and panting like dying men.

Slowly, they sink to the ground, limbs loose. For a while, they just lie on the ground content and satisfied. But, once the pleasure that fogs their brains dissipates, Geralt turns to Jaskier with an intense look on his face.

“I need you to know, Jaskier… You do matter to me. Your life has value, and people care for you,” A sour look crosses his face, “I know that I’m the Butcher. I leave destruction and devastation in my wake and I am nothing but trouble. But I love you, and I want you, if you’ll have me.”

Jaskier’s smile is blinding, “There is nothing I want more in this world!”

The fairy smirks knowingly when she receives a sonnet of praise and thanks, signed, ‘Sincerely, your brave Bard.’


End file.
